


Cyclone

by Sumbril



Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Neji is actually a teenager, Sass, hyuuga is awful, implied things, sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:40:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3940591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumbril/pseuds/Sumbril
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Temptation wasn't a creature he'd known until now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cyclone

**Author's Note:**

> Another short little drabble for Sunshineverse.

It's the first snow on Konoha, the type that falls slow and melts almost as quickly as it could land.

Neither of them have noticed.

He's watching her through the veil of the Byakugan for telltale signs of movement, and her weapon is fanned wide at three moons as she contemplates his defense. They're both running low on chakra, covered in dirt and scorch marks, and fully aware that the next move would be a decisive one that will determine the victor. 

A canine tooth pulls at the edge of her lip, and Neji's hand shifts a little higher in the air while his body crouches into a steadier stance. It's a charged moment, and then she flips over her fan and pulls it with her, turning through a swift spin that tears the wind apart and sends it hurtling at him from two different directions- razor sharp and ready to add to the numerous cuts already drawn into his skin.

He throws himself into a rapid spin that buffets the wind before it can tear him apart, but she comes in from above and slams her fan into the top of his whirlwind chakra just as he starts to slow. It kind of works. His spinning stops and the chakra dissipates, but it's not called an absolute defense for nothing, and sends her back a handful of meters for her trouble. Still, the damage is done and he's _really_ out of chakra now, feels the Byakugan starting to fade and experiences flashes of the world in full color that's more disorienting than anything. But by the way she's partially leaning on her fan, he knows she won't be trying that again either.

"Wait longer next time," he offers breathlessly, and Temari crooks him a smile that at once calls his bullshit and tells him she's not done yet. Except that's not possible because in a glimpse of his see-through vision, he watches the last of her chakra flicker and fail. She vanishes, and he only has time enough to look up and see her drop in from a steady flight on her fan. 

He's falling before he fully understands how she managed it, and the air rushes from his lungs as his back connects with the frozen ground beneath them. It's unexpectedly cold, but as he wheezes for a breath of chilled air, he sees a vision of a predator in her triumphant smile. She's straddling him, he notices, and instantly casts about for a distraction.

"You wouldn't have managed that.. if my Byakugan wasn't failing," he tells her, and her grin fades into something self-satisfied and amused.

"Guess you'll have to work on that."

It's a cheeky remark and practically expected at this point, so he rolls his eyes and gestures her off him. Except she doesn't move and he throws her an annoyed glance that stops short as he's arrested by the considering look she's pierced him with.

She's beautiful, he realizes for what feels like the hundredth time. Hair that matches the golden sand of her home village, and eyes a deep aquamarine he could drown in. Her smile is sharp and reminds him of the wind she wields to equal effect. She's the embodiment of her home country, he decides, and it's only the snow drifting around them and melting into her tangled hair that makes the moment feel soft. 

She kisses him, and it's perhaps less surprising than it should have been. It's not gentle, but he takes to her with a fervor that surprises him. In that moment, he forgets about every reason why he shouldn't. Not his clan, his engagement, or their very public surroundings. And when their need for more oxygen finally breaks them apart, he silently vows to do anything he can to rid himself of everything that's holding him back.

She's too close, and he struggles to keep her in focus. But she's humming a curious note, shifting atop him and he forces himself to remain still. Although he's beginning to realize his hands seemed to have moved of their own volition; he has one on her hip and another splayed over her thigh. Before he can do anything about it though, she's standing and he's both relieved and disappointed. He rolls over and stands up, uselessly wiping at dirt smeared down the white of his shirt.

"I need to clean up," she tells him casually- _too_ casually. He catches the way her hip cocks toward him and her head angles away, and stares for a moment. But he's apparently too slow on the uptake, because she rolls sea-green eyes and straightens.

"Your family won't kill you, right?"

He almost doesn't want to know what she's talking about, but he's a little too stunned to manage more forethought than the answer that immediately comes to mind. "Probably." Because it occurs to him that they _could_.

"Then let's go."

It takes more effort than it should have to keep from flushing, and he'll have to ponder meanings and consequences much, much later. He's not at all afraid to move despite the number of traditions he'd be breaking, and has completely forgotten about them by the time they reach his apartment.


End file.
